My Parents Gave Me $10,000 to Pay for College — I Was Shocked to Find Out What They Wanted in Return
I am about to graduate high school and I have been applying to universities and going on tours. My parents decided to gift me $10,000 to cover college costs. I was excited about this gift until they told me what they wanted in return. I refused their terms and walked away but now they are calling me ungrateful.
Parents giving cash gift to daughter | Source: Getty Images
Growing up in a small state with big dreams, I always envisioned my future in New York pursuing my dreams. My vibrant brushstrokes, which had been a part of me almost all my life, kept my dream going.
My room was a kaleidoscope of colors, filled to the brim with paintings that spoke volumes of my journey through high school. I won art competitions and its perks were evident in the array of accolades adorning my walls.
A young woman painting | Source: Getty Images
But art wasn’t just about the trophies; it was about the stories behind each brushstroke, each piece holding a piece of my heart. Among these masterpieces, a subtle hint of my side gig lingered, paintings created with love, for lovers, whispering tales of romance and passion.
A room with framed artwork | Source: Getty Images
Painting was more than a hobby to me, it was my passion and my identity. My parents, on the other hand, saw it as a fleeting interest, something that would never sustain a ‘real’ career. They encouraged me to explore more ‘practical’ fields, but my heart was set on pursuing an art degree in New York, a city that pulsed with creativity and opportunity.
A woman painting her room | Source: Getty Images
One evening, amidst my college applications and tours, the dinner table conversation started off innocently enough. My parents had a surprise for me, a gesture so generous it left me speechless. “We’ve decided to give you $10,000 to help pay for college,” my mom announced, her smile as warm as the summer sun.
I was over the moon. “Thank you so much! This means I can apply to my dream art schools in New York!” I exclaimed, visions of bustling city streets and inspiring art galleries dancing in my head.
A happy daughter receiving cash gift from parents | Source: Getty Images
But the warmth quickly faded as my dad cleared his throat, signaling the onset of conditions I hadn’t anticipated. “There are two rules,” he said sternly. “First, you can’t leave the state for university. And second, you can only choose from the degrees we approve of — medicine or law. We don’t think an art degree is the right path for you.”
My heart sank. “But I’ve been painting my whole life. You know how much this means to me,” I countered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
A daughter sad at her parents terms | Source: Getty Images
“We’re doing this for your own good, Ruth. Stop being ungrateful. We just want you to have a secure future,” my mom chimed in, her voice softer but no less firm.
The argument that ensued was not just heated; it was a clash of dreams and practicalities, each word sharp with the tension of unmet expectations. “How can you call it help if it comes with strings that strangle my dreams?” I cried out, my voice cracking under the strain of emotion. My parents, steadfast in their stance, responded with equal fervor.
A mother repremanding daughter | Source: Getty Images
“Ruth, we’re not trying to strangle your dreams, that is an ungrateful thing to say. We’re trying to ensure you have a future that’s not dependent on whims,” my dad countered, his tone laced with frustration and concern.
“Art isn’t a whim! It’s who I am. Don’t you understand? By restricting me to medicine or law, you’re asking me to give up a part of myself,” I shot back, desperation creeping into my voice. Each word felt like a plea for them to see me, to really see the person I was and the dreams I harbored.
Very upset parents scolding their daughter | Source: Getty Images
My mom sighed, her usual composure faltering. “We’ve seen too many struggles in fields like art. We don’t want that life for you. Can’t you see we’re doing this out of love?”
“But love shouldn’t come with conditions that force me into a mold I don’t fit,” I argued, my heart aching with the need to be understood. “I appreciate the gift, I really do. But if it means sacrificing my passion, my dreams, then what’s it worth? Isn’t my happiness and fulfillment important too?”
Angry father with daughter | Source: Getty Images
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. I stood there, feeling more alienated than ever. It was clear that the gap between us wasn’t just about the money or even about my career choice; it was about recognition, about them not validating my identity and aspirations.
Unable to bear the weight of their expectations and the pain of feeling so fundamentally misunderstood, I stormed out, the sound of my departure echoing through the house.
A daughter leaving home | Source: Getty Images
The door slammed shut behind me, a symbolic closure to a conversation that left me feeling more lost and alone than before. The gift that was meant to pave my way to the future now felt like chains binding me to a path I couldn’t walk, a future I couldn’t accept.
In the weeks that followed, I sought refuge at my friend’s place, a sanctuary where I could escape the stifling atmosphere of my home. It was a time of reflection and, surprisingly, of understanding. I realized that my parents’ intentions, albeit misguided, came from a place of love. They wanted me close, and safe in a career they deemed secure.
A sad daughter | Source: Getty Images
But a fire still burned within me, a desire to follow my dreams. I started working on a presentation, pouring my heart into every slide. I gathered testimonials from successful artists, statistics on the demand for creative professionals, and a detailed budget plan to manage my expenses beyond the $10,000 gift. My aim was to show not just the viability of an art degree but the depth of my commitment to my passion.
A daughter thinking about her future | Source: Getty Images
With the presentation ready, I reached out to my parents, asking for a chance to discuss my future. They agreed, and on the day of the meeting, a mix of nerves and determination filled me. As I walked into the hotel lobby to meet my parents, a knot tightened in my stomach, and my palms grew clammy with nerves.
Nervous woman walking | Source: Getty Images
Despite my determination, fear gnawed at me, whispering doubts and uncertainties. The weight of the impending conversation pressed heavily upon me, each step forward feeling like a leap into the unknown. Yet, amidst the fear, a flicker of hope persisted, driving me forward with the belief that this meeting could change everything.
Nervous daughter presenting to parents | Source: Getty Images
“Mom, Dad, I understand your concerns, but I need you to see things from my perspective,” I began, as soon as we were done with the pleasantries. Clicking through slides that represented my dreams and plans. I spoke of compromise, of understanding, of a future where passion and pragmatism could coexist.
A woman presenting | Source: Getty Images
“Pursuing art is not just an urge; it’s my passion, my calling. I need the freedom to explore this path fully,” I said meeting my parents’ gaze with determination.
Acknowledging their worries, I continued, “I know you want what’s best for me, and I appreciate that. So, here’s what I’m proposing, regular check-ins and updates on my progress. You’ll see firsthand how committed I am to making this work. Please, trust me to follow my dreams.”
Parents listening to their daughter | Source: Getty Images
As I talked, I saw the change in their expressions, from skepticism to contemplation, and finally, to understanding. “We never realized how much this meant to you,” my dad admitted, his voice softer than I’d heard in weeks. “Your presentation… it’s clear you’ve thought this through.”
Happy parents with daughter | Source: Getty Images
My Sister and Her Family Took Over My House Without Asking — They Faced Instant Consequences That Same Day
I won’t deny that I sometimes envy my friends living in their fancy apartments downtown, but then I remember that this place is mine. No landlord breathing down my neck, and no roommates leaving dirty dishes in the sink. Just me and my space.
Now, let me introduce you to my sister, Holly.
She’s 38, a mother of two, and married to her high school sweetheart, Nicholas. We used to be close when we were younger, but things changed when she got married. She started focusing more on her new life, and I never blamed her. I believe she did what she thought was best for her.
We drifted apart, but we were still on good terms. Or so I thought.
Holly and Nicholas have always been the free-spirited types. They’re one of those people who’re always talking about “quitting the rat race” and “living life to the fullest.”
It used to drive me nuts when we’d get together for family dinners.
“Life’s too short to be stuck in a cubicle, Phoebe,” Holly would say, sipping her wine. “You should travel more, see the world!”
I’d roll my eyes.
“Some of us like having a steady paycheck and a roof over our heads, Holly.”
Nicholas would chime in, “But think of the experiences! The memories!”
Yeah, well, memories don’t pay the bills, buddy, I’d think.
I tried to tell them to be more careful with their money. They were always jetting off on last-minute trips or buying the latest gadgets, even with two young kids to think about.
But did they listen? Nope.
A few months ago, they actually did it. They sold their house during the market boom, thinking they’d use the profit to fund a year-long break to “travel the world.”
I remember the conversation like it was yesterday.
“We’re doing it, Phoebe!” Holly squealed over the phone. “We sold the house!”
“What?” I nearly choked on my coffee. “Holly, are you serious? What about the kids’ school? Your jobs?”
“Oh, we’ll homeschool them on the road. It’ll be an education in itself! And we can always find work later. This is our chance to really live!”
I tried to talk some sense into her. I was really worried.
“Holly, have you really thought this through? Travel is expensive, especially with kids. What happens when the money runs out?”
“Don’t be such a worrywart, Phoebe,” she said, brushing off the concerns. “We’ve got it all figured out. We’ll stay in hostels, maybe do some volunteering for room and board. It’ll be fine!”
It was not fine. Not at all.
At first, their social media was full of pictures from nice hotels and fancy restaurants.
“Living the dream!” they’d caption every post.
But within two months, those posts started to dwindle.
The last one I saw was a grainy shot of them camping in some field, with a caption about “embracing the simple life.”
Then, radio silence for a few weeks. I thought they were just busy enjoying their travels, unaware of what was really happening behind the scenes.
One day, I came home from work, exhausted after a long day of meetings and deadlines. All I wanted was to kick off my shoes, pour a glass of wine, and binge-watch some trashy reality TV.
But as soon as I opened my front door, I knew something was off.
There were shoes I didn’t recognize in the entryway, kid-sized backpacks on the floor, and familiar voices coming from my living room.
I walked in, and there they were.
Holly, Nicholas, and their two kids. They were unpacking suitcases and boxes in MY living room.
“Holly?” I blurted out, squinting my eyes as I looked at the mess in my living room. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Oh, hi Phoebe!” Holly chirped. “Surprise! We’re back!”
“Back?” I repeated. “In my house?”
Then, Nicholas stepped forward, smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Yeah, we decided to cut the trip short,” he said. “Turns out, full-time travel with kids is harder than we thought!”
“And Mom gave us your spare key… the one you gave her for emergencies,” Holly added. “I knew you wouldn’t mind us crashing here for a bit while we figure things out. It’ll only be for a few months.”
“A few months?” I protested. “Holly, are you serious? You can’t just move into my house without asking me!”
“But… we’re family. I thought you’d be happy to help us out.”
“Happy?” I could feel my cheeks burning with anger. “Holly, this is my house. My space. You should’ve talked to me about this!”
“Now, now, Phoebe,” Nicholas interrupted. “Let’s not get too high and mighty here. Family helps family, right? It’s not like you’re using all this space anyway.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Where did this entitlement come from? Why were they acting like what they did was fine?
“You guys need to leave,” I said, crossing my arms on my chest. “Now.”
But Holly refused.
Meanwhile, Nicholas started subtly threatening me.
“Come on, Phoebe,” he began, looming over me. “Don’t make this difficult. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
I was furious. If I called the cops, their young kids might get dragged into it, and I didn’t want that.
I needed to come up with a plan, so I headed straight to my bedroom and locked the door behind me.
At that point, I honestly felt like crying. I had no idea what to do until my phone buzzed. It was a text from my old college friend, Alex.
Hey Pheebs! In your area for work. Drinks tonight?
Alex was always the prankster in our friend group, always coming up with wild schemes. If anyone could help me out of this mess, it was him.
I quickly texted him back.
Actually, can you come over? I have a situation and could use your help. Bring your acting skills.
The doorbell rang an hour later, and I raced to answer it before Holly or Nicholas could. When I opened the door, I saw a police officer standing at my doorstep.
“Oh my God, Alex!” I looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re wearing the perfect costume!”
I quickly stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
“What happened, Pheebs?” he asked.
“I need your help getting rid of my relatives,” I told him, still fascinated by his fake police uniform. “They’ve completely taken over my house.”
I quickly explained the situation, and Alex agreed to help. Then, I opened the door and called out to Holly and Nicholas.
“Holly, Nicholas, can you come here please? There’s a police officer who needs to speak with us.”
They were smiling when they came into the hallway, but their expressions immediately changed when they saw Alex in his uniform.
“Good evening,” Alex said. “I’m Officer Johnson. We’ve received reports of a break-in at this address. Can you tell me what’s going on here?”
Nicholas looked at me, squinting his eyes. Then, he puffed up his chest and slowly walked toward Alex.
“There’s no break-in here, officer,” Nicholas said in a serious tone. “We’re family. Everything’s fine.”
“Officer, these people entered my home unlawfully,” I said. “I never gave them permission to be here.”
Alex nodded and then looked at Holly and Nicholas.
“How did you gain entry to this residence?” Alex asked.
“We, uh, we used a key,” Holly stammered. “Mom gave it to me. It was a, uh, spare key for emergencies.”
“But no one asked my permission,” I intervened. “So, technically, you broke in. Who knows what might be missing?”
“I see,” Alex said, looking around the house. “And when the homeowner asked you to leave, did you comply?”
“Now, hold on a minute,” Nicholas said, his voice trembling slightly. “We did—”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately,” Alex cut him off, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “Failure to do so could result in charges of breaking and entering, as well as trespassing.”
I wanted to laugh so hard watching Nicholas pretending to be a police officer. He was just amazing. His last sentence was enough to send Holly and Nicholas into a panic.
“We’re sorry…” Holly began. “We’ll pack up.”
They quickly began throwing their things into their bags.
“If you leave right now,” Alex said sternly, “I won’t file charges. But you’ll return the key and never trespass again.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. Alex and I watched in silence as they grabbed their kids and their bags and bolted out of the house.
I finally laughed once their car sped away.
“You’re a lifesaver, Alex,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Coffee?”
“Sure!” he said as he walked in and closed the door behind him.
I quickly made two cups of coffee before we sat in my now-quiet living room.
“I can’t believe they just assumed they could live here,” Alex said, shaking his head.
“I know,” I sighed. “Part of me feels guilty, you know? They’re family, after all. But I just couldn’t let them freeload off me like that.”
“You did the right thing, Phoebe,” Alex reassured me. “They can’t just take advantage of you because their hare-brained scheme failed.”
“I’m so glad you messaged me at the right time, Alex,” I said, looking at my phone. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. But why did you come dressed up like a police officer?”
“Oh, that,” Alex chuckled. “I was just messing around with friends, pulling pranks and all. I had no idea my costume would come in handy over here. What a coincidence, right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “What a coincidence.”
As we talked, I couldn’t help but think of the consequences of my actions. Had I done the right thing? Would this drive an irreparable wedge between me and my sister?
But then I looked around my living room. It was my space, and I had worked so hard for it. I thought about all the long hours and the sacrifices I’d made to buy a house and realized I couldn’t let Holly and Nicholas just take over everything.
I also realized it was okay to put myself first. It was okay to stand up for myself and not let people walk all over me.
What would you have done if you were in my shoes?
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